SMS: The Short Message Service
by Remmak
Summary: When Executor Pallin starts receiving mysterious messages via his omni-tool device, it's all he can do to ignore his anonymous tormentor. When he discovers who's behind them, it does nothing short of shock him. ME1
1. The Watcher

**SMS: The Short Message Service - Chapter One**

"I've been watching you."

The simple message had arrived in Executor Pallin's inbox at seven-thirty that morning. For anyone else, it might have been disconcerting, but the turian's habit of early rising was common knowledge among those who worked for him. The vague message could have come from anyone; the criminal syndicate or, more likely, one of the 500,000 officers that served under his command. Either way, Pallin wasn't the sort of man to play games, and he wasn't easily intimidated either. Without giving the cryptic note another thought, he checked the box next to it then hit the delete button. As C-Sec's figurehead, he got too much attention from the paparazzi and the politicians already. He wasn't about to entertain what was likely nothing more than a bad joke.

After it had disappeared from his list of e-mails, he cleared his throat and examined his agenda for the day. There was a meeting of Council officials at noon, so he decided it would be prudent to take an early lunch. Unfortunately, he had to finish sorting out the new-recruit rosters that had taken over his desk first. With a sigh, he reluctantly glanced at the tall stack of personal profile folders he'd been trying to will away all morning.

Sorting out applicants to the C-Sec Academy was always a trial for him; it reminded him how frivolous and undisciplined the youth of today had become. Good men and women were harder and harder to come by, and the reject pile always ended up being bigger than that of acceptations.

He was momentarily glad, then, when a bleep from his omni-tool brought his attention to an incoming text message. Any reprieve from the discouraging and mind-numbing job ahead of him was welcomed, however short it might be. As he read the message, however, his eyebrows drew together in annoyance.

"Why don't you take the day off?" it read. The address on the sender line matched the one from the e-mail he'd just deleted.

Pallin stilled his emotions and let his logic take control. It could be mere coincidence that the message had come just as he was reviewing his schedule. There was nothing in it that could confirm he was literally being watched, at the very moment. Just to be safe, Pallin ignored the text as if nothing had happened. If this nonsense was a big joke as he suspected, he didn't want to give his disgruntled subordinates the satisfaction.

Instead, he merely reached for his pile of paperwork with stiff resignation. He took a deep breath before reluctantly sliding off the rubber band that bound the documents together. As he lifted it from the top corner, it snapped and flew back to strike him in the face. The Executor swore as his everyday agitation took a few steps closer to full-blown vexation. When his omni-tooled promptly sounded for a second time, a muscle in his powerful jaw began to twitch. Slowly, with great restraint, he tilted the screen of his tool into view.

"Careful, Pallin. Wouldn't want to put out one of those pretty blue eyes of yours…"

Pretty blue eyes?! Pallin scowled as his blood heated in his veins; now he knew for sure someone was watching him. His head darted around the office like hawk, searching for suspicious devices and signs of tampering. Whoever was at the other end of those messages, they would have to be a professional to get into his office unnoticed. This might not be the work of one of his officers at all, but something genuinely sinister.

After looking around frantically for a few minutes, Pallin looked up in revelation and moved closer to the large windows looking out over the Presidium. _Of course_. It was the obvious choice; the Presidium was vast and stacked story upon story. You could see right into his office from any one of a thousand vantage points. He could look all day and never spot anyone. It was far too large an expanse, and besides, he had a more practical approach to weeding out his would-be stalker.

He walked quickly back to this desk and hit the speed dial for C-Sec's Networks division. When the secretary answered the phone, Pallin asked for a tech and explained the situation, carefully omitting the watcher's comment about his eyes.

"I want this traced immediately," the Executor ordered as he forwarded the messages info to his tech, "Find out where these texts are coming from and who's sending them. Let me know as soon as you have a lead."

As soon as he'd hung up on the Networks division, he called his secretary to put in an order for a set of security panels for his less-than-private windows. He wasn't going to risk dealing with this again. Since his office was obviously compromised, Pallin decided it would be best to retire to his second office at the Academy for the rest of the day. He gathered up his documents and shut off his computer. When he exited the airlock, he activated the security system more out of habit than any belief it would keep the intruder from returning. He just hoped he'd find his other office empty and in-tact upon his arrival.

"Aww…don't leave. We were just getting to know each other." his omni-tool bleeped.

Pallin grunted at the text as he passed by the Embassy's secretary. His stalker probably knew far more about him than he let on; and more than Pallin was comfortable with.

"Marina," the Executor said, keeping his voice low and hoping if any cameras were present they wouldn't pick up his voice, "I'm leaving for the Academy. I'll have a team sent back to sweep my office as soon as I get there. If anyone else comes by, page me and use the panic button if necessary."

The asari woman nodded. Only a handful of people knew about the silent alarm system used in the Embassy, even though nearly every office had it installed. When the panic button was pressed, it sent a signal directly to the Academy and the three nearest C-Sec divisions. Trouble-makers wouldn't know the officers had been put on alert until Special Response showed up with handcuffs. It was a good system, and so far, they'd never had to use it.

"Should I forward your calls?" Marina asked.

"Only if it's a Council official or an emergency."

"Yes, sir."

Satisfied, he turned on his heel and headed for the nearest transport station. A few of the Embassy's many diplomats tried to stop him along the way, but he gruffly shrugged them off. He had no time to chat with stuffy politicians when someone might be targeting him with a sniper rifle at the very moment. Instead of looking offended, they should have been thanking him. Who knew what the man on the other end of the omni-tool was after? Best to keep civilians away and avoid the potential for collateral damage.

At the rapid transit station, Pallin commandeered a vessel for himself, flashing his badge and ordering the half-dozen passengers it carried into another car. A squat volus whined about missing a meeting to broker a deal for a new starship, but quickly withered under the Executor's warning glare of impatience. Pallin hadn't risen to the top of C-Sec's hierarchal ladder because he allowed himself to be chastised by random strangers. He barked one last order to the volus and the fat man nearly tripped over himself in his haste to give up his seat.

A few of his officers arrived at the scene of the commotion, and one of them called out to his superior.

"Anything we can help with, sir?" he said.

"You can get these people clear of the transport. There's a situation at the Academy and I'm needed there immediately," Pallin replied.

The officers nodded and began corralling the bewildered passengers away from the transport rail so Pallin's vessel could pull away without clipping any unfortunate by-standers. As soon as the way was clear, he activated the lock on the door and the shuttle shot away towards the Academy. After riding along in silence for a few minutes, Pallin began to relax a little. Perhaps he'd managed to evade whoever was following him. He looked out the transport window and caught his reflection in the mirror. _Pretty blue eyes._

He'd been called many things his day, but "pretty" had never been one of them. Looking attractive had never been as important to him as looking professional; and the only time he spent looking in the mirror anymore was when he had to touch up the bright white markings lacquered across his face. Even then, it was more as a point of turian pride than personal vanity. Afterall, who did he have to look good for?

_Nobody_, he told himself forcefully. Other people were nothing but a liability, and he didn't have the time nor the inclination to maintain any close relationships. They just weren't worth the bother.

When Pallin's shuttle arrived outside the Academy steps, he was greeted by the guards outside. He questioned them about any suspicious persons on the premises, but both turians told him it'd been quiet all morning. He granted them each a small nod of approval before tucking his papers under his arm and entering the Academy foyer.

He was surprised to see how empty the room was, at least by C-Sec standards. Normally, the place was packed and anyone could slip in unnoticed among the sea of bodies, but luckily, today was slow. One asari secretary offered to bring him refreshment and two more said almost robotically polite good mornings as he passed by them. He sent the first asari away to fetch him something to drink, then asked one of the others to get him an update on the tech department's attempt to track down whoever was harassing him. Both inclined their heads respectfully and went on their way. At least asari courtesy was something he could still count on amidst the day's upheaval.

He made his way up the stairs to his office on the second floor, waving off any recruits that tried to engage him. There were plenty of other senior officers around that they could pester with their questions. When he reached his room, he nervously opened the airlock, hoping he wouldn't find any surprises inside. The office was as empty and immaculate as he'd left it, and he collapsed into his heavily padded chair gratefully. He dropped his documents on his desk and rubbed his temples wearily. Stalkers, recruit rosters, loud-mouthed volus - today just wasn't his day.

By the time the asari aid arrived with his beverage, he'd already managed to straighten up and get to work on the file folders. His day or no, there was work to be done, and besides, his omni-tool hadn't sounded since he'd left the Embassy. Maybe his techs had already located the messages source and managed to shut it down. The asari sat a cup and saucer at the edge of his desk then waited to be dismissed. Pallin thanked her and she exited quietly. He took a sip of the hot liquid as he scanned the file folder of a Jacoby M. Hayes.

A red-headed human grinned exuberantly from the small photo pinned to the folders front flap. The short bio pegged him as twenty-four years old, earth-born, and a cyber-crime specialist for a private firm back on his home planet. Pallin read the human's credentials and psychological profile before placing it in his accepted pile.

His stack of folders had been almost cut in half when the second asari arrived with news from the tech department. She explained that they had located the caller and a team from the Investigation division was already en route. Pallin nodded thankfully and waved her out after the brief report, but she paused hesitantly.

"Also, a delivery has just arrived for you, Executor," she added. The turian tensed.

"Delivery?" he echoed. Unexpected packages were never a good thing in his book, and his hand went straight to the dial for Special Response. He wasn't going near the thing until he had a bomb-squad in place.

"That won't be necessary, sir," the asari interjected. Pallin was about to ask her just who was giving the orders around C-Sec when the look on her face stopped him. She seemed amused and even a little curious. "I think you should see for yourself, sir."


	2. The White Roses

**SMS: The Short Message Service - Chapter Two**

Warily, Pallin followed the asari back down the steps and into the foyer. He could have sworn he heard girlish giggles, but he forgot about them as soon as he caught sight of the field of white that had blanketed the room during his absence. Dozens and dozens of white roses sprawled out over the desks, benches, and even into the corners. A handful of officers tried to traverse the room awkwardly, the offending flora making it difficult to get around, and a secretary was signing for the delivery with a dark haired human by the doors. Pallin just stood there blinking, and the asari escorting him tried to stifle a small laugh.

"You!" Pallin shouted at the deliveryman, unable to approach due to the sea of roses that cut him off, "Who sent these?!"

"Don't know. Order was called in at a public terminal," the man replied, "But they did send a card with it."

"Well, send them back! This is a government building and these flowers are a hazard!"

"Send them back?" the asari standing by the human exclaimed, "But Executor, these must have a cost a fortune! You can't be serious…"

"I think it's a lovely gesture," another added.

"You should at least read the card first," the one escorting him finished.

_Women_, Pallin thought. This was hardly the innocent, romantic overture they thought it was. The turian knew it in his gut before his omni-tool even went off.

"How do you like the roses, Pallin? I know red is the traditional color, but I wanted to make a statement."

He came close to ripping the omni-tool off his arm and flinging it across the room, but he decided that wouldn't make a very good statement for his subordinates. Instead, he grit his teeth and demanded to see the card. The human handed a sealed envelope to the asari next to him, then she handed it to another officer, and so on until it had crossed the great white sea of roses. Pallin glanced over it, but the only thing written on the outside were the words "To Executor Pallin" in a fine handwriting. He slipped a talon under the flap and broke the seal. His asari escort peered over his shoulder a bit, trying to catch a glimpse of the contents. Pallin closed the envelope again and gave her a pointed stare. She backed away and coughed self-consciously.

"Get these damn things out of here," Pallin ordered the staff around him, "I don't care where you put them as long as they're out of my sight."

"And you," he added, turning back to the asari at his side, "Send a message to the Council and tell them I regretfully will not be attending today's meeting due to security concerns. Go now!"

The gathering in the foyer broke up quickly at his commands, everyone eager to avoid the Executor's ire. As soon as they started clearing out of the room, Pallin returned to his office to read the anonymous note in private. His humiliation was bad enough without having to share it with the world.

Before he could sit down, another text appeared on his omni-tool.

"How about we meet for lunch? I know your favorite…"

Pallin ignored it like he did the others and pulled the folded sheet of paper out of the nondescript white envelope. He began to read.

_Executor -_

_I know what you're thinking; that I'm a crazy lunatic who needs to be put in lock-up, that I'm not worth your time - that there's nothing about you worth loving._

_I know, because I've been watching you for years - and I'm here to tell you you're wrong._

_You're very loveable. You would see that if you'd only give yourself a chance and stop assuming the worst about people all the time. Let that wall around your heart down, just for a moment, and see what's out there._

_It tears me up to see what a lonely shell of a man your thirty years at C-Sec have forced you to become. Life is just a chore for you now, with no room for enjoyment. You carry such a heavy burden of responsibility, and you carry it alone. Would it be so wrong to share that weight with someone? You don't think it would be nice to have someone you can trust and confide in?_

_I think it would be, and I'd like that person to be you. I have burdens of my own, Executor, and I'd like to share them with you._

_- Your Constant Companion_

_P.S. You look very sexy with you scowl._

Pallin's face contorted at the final line, and another text popped up on his omni-tool screen.

"Yes, _that_ scowl."

The Executor almost jumped. There were cameras here, too? Exactly who was he dealing with? How long had they been watching_ this_ _time_? The old turian was fed up, and despite the risks, he couldn't keep himself from texting back angrily.

"Just keep it up. There's an Investigation unit on your trail as we speak."

It took almost no time for a reply to show up.

"Oh? And what do you think they'll find? Me? Or a scrambling device…?"

Pallin cursed. This _was_ a professional he was dealing with, and if the watcher was re-routing his signals, it could take days to track down the true point of origin.

"What do you want?" Pallin sent back. If the watcher wanted him dead, he'd had ample opportunity to take a shot when he left the Embassy. That the Executor was still alive meant the stalker had a different goal.

"You." the short reply explained.

"For what purpose? Ransom? Information? You should know I won't be of much use in either circumstance."

That was the simple truth. Pallin had always been prepared to sacrifice himself if the safety of the Citadel depended on it, and there was a special clause in his contract that forbid responding to terrorists should he ever be taken hostage. It was his wish that if someone wanted to strike against the Citadel and its citizens, they wouldn't be able to use him as an advantage.

"Nothing so dramatic, Pallin. I'd rather have you ready and willing than bound and gagged."

Pallin coughed and slid a talon under his collar, which suddenly felt too tight. His armor was uncomfortably hot as well, and he could feel beads of sweat forming on the skin on the back of his neck. He decided to send back a question, but something told him he already new the answer.

"Ready for what?"

"You'll just have to find out…won't you?"

His mandibles flared in embarrassment, then flattened in anger. This whole thing was nothing but a sick joke, and he was tired of it. The watcher was just mocking him, toying with his emotions like a true sociopath. Whatever this ridiculous game was, he wasn't playing into it. He didn't like it, but with the Investigation team following a false lead and both of his offices tapped, he only had one safe place left to go. Home.

He called the tech department and forwarded the newest messages even though he doubted they had been sent from the same location. Unless everything had been set up in advance and the watcher was working remotely, he would have had to follow Pallin to the Academy. The new messages would only complicate things by widening the field of triangulation results. He sent off an apologetic e-mail to the Council and a few other figureheads before gathering his things for a second time.

The watcher had succeeded in one thing: forcing Pallin to take the day off. Even though it felt like running away to him, he knew that his continued presence at the Academy would led to no good. If the watcher proved to be dangerous, he wanted his life to be the only one on the line. With that stalwart resignation, he walked downstairs and out the doors, already calling up the quickest way home in his mind.

.oO--Oo.

Pallin sighed with relief when the double-heavy airlock doors to his apartment finally came into view. He was looking forward to having some privacy and a nice cold shower. He gratefully dug out his pass-card and swiped it through the security panel. The little machine gave a dull-toned beep that signified an error. The Executor stiffened and swore to himself as the he read the message scrolling across the screen. Someone had already deactivated his alarm system…

He narrowed his steel blue eyes and backed himself up against the wall, pulling out his Armax pistol with practiced care. It may have been awhile since he'd been an active officer, but he hadn't forgotten the skills he'd spent decades perfecting. He gave a quick tap to the security console and the apartment door slid open. Inside, the entryway was clear and, after pausing briefly to listen for intruders, he stalked forward a few steps, guarding his chest with his gun.

As he passed the open portal that led to the kitchen, he heard the soft, whispering scrape of metal across metal. Tense now, he concentrated on keeping quiet as he crept towards the living room where light from the Presidium's artificial sun filtered through the thick windows. When he leaned around the corner of the narrow hallway, he caught sight of a bone-colored turian fiddling with a vent on the far wall. He had his back to Pallin, and seemed unaware of the other man's presence. Pallin watched him for a few moments, carefully scoping the intruder for weapons and accomplices. Deciding the turian was working alone, he jumped into the center of the room, holding his pistol high and aiming square for the white turian's chest.

"Stop what you're doing and put your hands where I can see them," the Executor commanded. He would end this right here, right now.

"I suppose you'll want to frisk me too, then?" the intruder replied as he turned around slowly. Pallin gave an exasperated sigh and dropped his weapon to his side.

"Chellick!" he exclaimed in frustration, "What the hell are you doing here?!"

"I heard about what's been going on," Chellick answered, "Thought I'd sweep your house for bugs before you got home today."

"I could have shot you!"

"Oh please, Venari. Your shins creak so badly I could hear you coming from a mile away. Besides, your safety's on."

Chellick reached out, took Pallin's gun, unlocked the safety, spun it once around his index talon, then handed it back handle first before Pallin could even react. When the older turian finally did, it was to plant at hard stare at his long time friend.

"Don't be an ass," Pallin warned him. Chellick grinned smugly and chuckled to himself but said nothing. The Executor put his pistol away at his side then gestured for his friend to follow him.

"So, did you find anything?" he asked as he led them back to the kitchen.

"No, but I got over here pretty quickly after I got the news… Could be I beat the perp here."

"Or they saw you enter and are waiting to catch me alone," Pallin mused. Chellick cocked his head to the side.

"You sound worried, Venari."

"Not worried," Pallin corrected as he turned towards the fridge, "Annoyed. I haven't gotten any work done at all, and I'm going to miss a Council meeting because of this foolery!"

"Maybe I should take a look at the texts, get a better idea of what we're dealing with," Chellick offered.

"_We_ aren't dealing with anything, _Chellick_," Pallin snapped, "This is my problem, and I'll take care of it myself. If I want your psychological evaluation, I'll ask for it."

Pallin huffed and began digging through the fridges contents before the other turian could reply. The entire Academy staff had already witnessed his private hell just hours earlier, the last thing he wanted was to share with even _more _people. He pushed around a few containers before spotting a bottle on the top shelf - one that hadn't been there when he'd left that morning. Gritting his teeth, he reached out and took hold of it, searching for another note from the mysterious stalker.

"I brought that with me," Chellick piped up at his superior's look of concern, "Put away two perps today, thought I'd have a little celebration."

Pallin leaned over and placed the bottle on the bar in front of Chellick.

"We'll you'll have to do so without me, I'm hardly in the mood," he grumbled.

"Oh live a little, would you? If someone was stalking me, I know I'd want a drink…or four."

The white turian got up and fumbled through the cabinets for glasses. He pulled out two despite Pallin's protests and put them on the counter. He read the bottle's label and looked at Pallin gleefully.

"A Palaven import, good year, and _very _expensive…"

"I hope it's better than whatever you brought last time," Pallin complained as he watched Chellick fill the glasses.

"Are you suggesting I have no taste?" Chellick asked as he puffed up a bit in mock offense, "Just try it before you get on my case."

The liquor that swirled in the glass Chellick handed him was of a pale amber hue, and when he brought it to his nose, he caught a whiff of fragrant fruits. The white turian took a sip of his own drink and studied Pallin over the top of his glass, clearly waiting for his reaction. Giving his friend a meaningful look, Pallin slowly drank. It had a crisp flavor and went down cleanly. He smacked a little and caught an aftertaste he couldn't quite place.

"So?" Chellick asked, arching his eye ridges slightly.

"It's not bad," Pallin admitted as he took another sip.

Chellick grinned in triumph.

"One of these days you're going to learn to trust me, Venari."

"A converted criminal like you? Hardly…"

Not many people knew how Chellick had originally come to work for C-Sec. Most people just thought he had just transferred up from a police division on the turian homeworld, but the truth was, the detective had a handful of run-ins with the law before deciding to work as an informant, and eventually, as a reformed and highly respected officer. It had all happened years ago, and most of the officers who had been in charge at the time were either dead or retired.

Pallin had to jerk to keep himself upright as fatigue suddenly crept up on him. All the stress and running around must have worn him out more than he thought. He wished that he was young again, with all the energy of turians like Chellick, who were putting away criminals at rates that almost made his rookie years on the force look like an embarrassment. Chellick noticed his weariness and voiced his concern.

"Are you feeling, alright? Surely one drink can't have that much impact on you…"

"I just got home," Pallin rebuffed him, "I'm tired. Give me a minute to relax."

Chellick just nodded and turned to put the bottle back in the fridge. When he turned around, Pallin was pleasantly asleep. The white turian grinned and slipped the half-empty glass out from between Pallin's talons.

"I thought you looked sexy when you scowled," he mused to the passed out turian, "But you're even cuter sleeping…"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** PS, if anyone has a problem with M/M, stop reading now, and please don't spam up my reviews with your homophobic commentary. That only proves how big of an ass you are. Thank you.


	3. The Happy Ending

**Author's Notes: **Okay, one last warning to the idjits who didn't read the one at the end of the last chapter: Depictions of M/M sex are present in this chapter. If you find such material objectionable, please don't read below this note. Thank you, Rembot

To everyone else, I hope it's good for you, too. wink

**SMS: Short Message Service - Chapter Three**

Stiffness and confusion clouded Pallin's body and mind when he finally woke from his drug induced slumber. Brief glimpses of his return home passed through his head, along with an unusual sense of dread, but he couldn't recall what it was he'd been running from. He tried to gather his scattered thoughts, but all of his mental acuity had been replaced by a chemical stupor. Foggy as his mind was, he wasn't sure he could trust his memories anyway.

With achy, languid movements that revealed how weak he had become, he turned his head to survey his surroundings. The walls were bare except for the Citadel's ever-present comm devices, and the furniture around him was arranged at exact angles. There was little in the way of color or decoration, and the few personal articles he saw were neatly organized. He realized with some relief that this _was _his home, so at least some small part of his traitorous mind was still functioning.

He tried to move his arms and legs, but the former were bound behind his back. From his slouched position in the living room chair, the best he could do was to kick at the floor to right himself. The awkward arrangement he was currently in was hurting his back and shoulders. As his talons slid across the smooth floor, he wondered how long he'd been laying this way. After working himself into a sweat for several minutes, he finally managed to make it to an upright posture. He was encouraged by this small success, because with it came a degree of clarity.

His omni-tool was missing.

Whatever it was that held his hands, he could feel it digging into both wrists. If he were wearing his omni-tool, it would have provided a barrier against the uncomfortable bonds. That revelation quickly led to another as the drug began to wear off - the watcher. That's why he'd come home in such a hurry. He had been trying to avoid the very person who held him now. But something was still missing…

His attempt to piece together what little he remembered was cut short as the comm on the wall rang. It lit up and the bright flashing sent Pallin's world spinning. He clenched his eyes shut tightly, and when the ringing stopped a mere second later, he concentrating on listening. Someone had picked up the line.

"Hello?" a smooth voice echoed from the kitchen, "No, this is Detective Chellick. I'm afraid he's a bit…_tied up _at the moment, but I'd be happy to take a message."

_Chellick_. Everything came rushing back to Pallin with that name, and the turian felt himself flush with anger and embarrassment. He glanced at the comm to make sure the line was still active before struggling his way to his feet. He didn't know where he could go with his hands tied up the way they were, but he had to try something. Tense and frustrated, he crept as quietly as he could to his bedroom. If he could just manage to get his hands free, the spare pistol in his nightstand would come in handy.

"No, everything's just fine," he heard Chellick tell the caller, "The Executor is in good hands. No, thank you. Bye, now."

Now that his distraction was gone, Pallin picked up the pace down the hall. His home wasn't large enough to hide in, he had to get his hands free to fight back. He took a moment to look over his shoulder frantically, and it was that move that proved to be his downfall. A wire caught his right foot and sent him falling to the floor without even his hands to support himself. He took the fall square in the jaw, and the impact knocked the wind out of him. Cursing mentally, he rolled onto one side in pain, trying vainly to cradle a busted knee.

"Ah-ah-ah," clucked a familiar voice as a set of talons clicked the floor in front of his face, "Can't have you damaging the goods, Venari."

Pallin rolled onto his back with some effort and glared at the white turian.

"You drugged me," he hissed through his sore jaw.

"Yes, yes I did," Chellick admitted flippantly, "But don't worry, I'm here to nurse you back to health."

The white turian crouched and helped Pallin sit up against the wall.

"You sent those messages," the Executor added.

"I did."

"Why?"

Pallin was about to pound his companion with more questions regarding his sanity, but the sudden intense gaze Chellick locked on him made him stall against his will. Something in the detective's emerald green eyes told him he was trespassing on dangerous territory.

"Why?" Chellick repeated, "_Why?_"

The white turian flustered for a moment, something Pallin had never seen him do before. Normally he had a barbed comment or back-handed compliment for every situation. He could dance around any conversation with ease, yet here he was, without words for once in his life. After opening and closing his mouth several times, Chellick resorted to a quick slap across Pallin's face. The Executor's eyes flew open in shock.

"You stupid, stubborn man," Chellick foamed, "Haven't I been trying to tell you that _all day_?! Did you even bother to read the card I sent? Or did you send it to the toxicology lab for testing right away? Hah. Figures... Work is all you think about anymore, you don't care at all for the people around you, only your image as the Great Executor Pallin."

Chellick stood up, leaving the Executor in a undignified heap on the floor. The white turian paced in a small circle, his head darting back and forth in anger.

"You know, I used to think you were something special, Venari. You saw potential in me all those years ago, when everyone else at C-Sec was ready to ship me off to the labor colonies. Maybe you never trusted me," he said, pausing to give Pallin a thoughtful glance, "Maybe you still don't, but you stood up for me when no one else would. That has to count for something…"

"Chellick, listen to me -" Pallin interjected.

"No! _You_ listen. You're always the one giving orders, always the one in control. Well, _I'm_ in control now. I've worked so hard over this past decade trying to get your attention. Trying to pay you back for the kindness you showed me once, but it's never enough for you. You continue to go about blindly, demanding more and more of me and your other officers, without ever acknowledging our gains or our feelings. That's why I had to send those messages, Venari. That's why I had to trick you into coming here. That's why you're tied up on the floor instead of sitting with me at a nice dinner like I would have wanted. It was the only way to make you listen to me, and you _still _couldn't piece it together."

Chellick stopped pacing and drooped his shoulders. His voice was tired when he spoke again.

"You have your own pride and self-centeredness to blame for the unhappy state of your life, Venari. And I have only my heart to blame for what I've done here today."

Pallin fidgeted on the floor, unsure of how to respond to his friend's tirade. He slowly recalled the messages he'd received, and the anonymous letter he now knew had been penned by one of the people closest to him. He'd never imagined the letter was sincere, much less written by someone he'd known for years. A weighty sense of humility fell over him as he realized Chellick was right. Even after their ten year friendship and the hints Chellick had given him, he couldn't connect the letter with the man standing before him. Chellick might as well have been the stranger Pallin thought he was. He really had been blind.

"Will you untie me, now?" he asked quietly, unable to meet Chellick's eyes.

"I'd like to release you, but how do I know you're going to behave? You've already tried to run away once, and I'm not letting you go anywhere until I've made you understand."

"You said something about dinner," Pallin said, "I'm hungry."

Chellick seemed to relax, then nodded.

"I made your favorite."

.oO--Oo.

Pallin rubbed his wrists as he watched Chellick move about his kitchen with ease. The detective was busy finishing the meal he'd begun preparing while Pallin was knocked out, and Pallin was busy contemplating this new facet of their relationship.

"Did you mean what you said?" he asked awkwardly, trying to mask his emotions behind a gruff tone, "About my eyes, I mean?"

Chellick glanced up from his work long enough to flash a playful grin.

"Oh yes," the white turian replied, "I hope the rest of you is just as pleasing."

Pallin flushed and flared his mandibles. He watched Chellick absently stick a talon in his mouth, licking off the bit of sauce he'd accidentally dipped in his hand into while replying to Pallin's question. The older turian's throat constricted and his skin started to burn a little. He blamed it and the tingling sensation in his loins on the drug Chellick had slipped him earlier.

"There," Chellick said as he sat a dish of hot food in front of Pallin, "All done. I hope you like it."

The white turian prepared his own plate and scooted around the bar to take a seat by his friend. Pallin pushed the food on his plate around, distracted by the odd, electric feel coming off of the turian next to him.

"It's not poisoned," Chellick said flatly.

"What? Oh, no, I…never mind."

Chellick shrugged and took a few bites of his food. Pallin tried to focus on the plate in front of him and eventually managed to follow the detective's example. He was pleasantly surprised to discover the food was delicious, much better than the hurried meals he was used to.

"This is excellent," he remarked. Chellick smiled.

"Well eat up, you're going to need your strength."

The rush of heat that bloomed in Pallin's face caused him to bring his hand up so Chellick couldn't see his reaction. What was wrong with him? He hadn't felt such foolish feelings in years. Such things were the pleasures of younger turians. _Much_ younger turians. Besides, Chellick was his subordinate. To allow their relationship to become anything more than it was would be unprofessional. He warred with his emotions while Chellick cleared away the dishes. When Chellick touched him suddenly, it was as if a static charge rippled across his body.

"Those handcuffs really hurt your wrists," Chellick said apologetically as he inspected Pallin's forearm gently, "I would have padded them first if I'd known you were so delicate."

"It's nothing," Pallin replied as his legs rebelled against him and began to turn to jelly.

"You've scuffed your face a bit from the fall, too. We should get you cleaned up before those cuts have a chance to get infected."

Pallin was too weak to protest as Chellick led him to the bathroom. It was only when his companion started running water in the bathtub that he managed to pipe up.

"What are you doing?" he asked anxiously.

"Preparing to give you a bath," Chellick replied, "Warm, hot or room temperature?"

"There's a med-kit in the cabinet, there's no reason to-"

"You injured your knee in that fall as well. You've been limping since I picked you up."

"It's not that bad."

"Not yet, but it will be if you give it time to become inflamed. If we soak it in warm water with some salts, it'll keep the swelling down. Besides," Chellick said with a grin, "You've had a hard day. You deserve to relax."

When the bathtub was full, Chellick turned to him pointedly, but Pallin could only swallow nervously.

"Off with it," the white turian instructed. When the older turian refused to obey, Chellick put a hand on his hip and sighed. "If I have to pistol whip you to get you in there, I will, but that wouldn't be much fun for either of us."

Pallin looked at the steam rising off the tub and wondered if it was just the warmth rising off the water that was making sweat so. He took a step towards it, facing opposite of Chellick, and slowly began unclasping his polished C-Sec uniform. Chellick's hands reached up to slide off his chest piece as Pallin's common sense screamed at him for his weak-willed lapse in protocol.

"This can only end badly," he whispered, somewhat emboldened by the moisture-thick air that stood between them like a curtain. His eyes fluttered and he shivered when Chellick's breath caressed the back of his naked neck.

"Remember what I said in my letter?"

"To stop assuming the worst," Pallin replied.

"Good, you're starting to pay attention. I knew you'd come around."

Chellick traced a line of fire across Pallin's chest with his talons, and nuzzled his neck slightly, taking in the older turian's smell.

"Is that a yes, then?" he whispered into the hollow under Pallin's jaw.

Pallin tilted his head back and closed his eyes in defeat as Chellick's hands roamed lower.

"Just tell me one thing," Pallin said.

"Of course..."

"This won't turn out to be some one-night fling, will it?"

Chellick took his hands back and made Pallin turn to face him. To his shock, he could see tears forming in the turian's eyes, even through the room's misty atmosphere.

"Is that what you're afraid of?" Chellick asked softly, "That I'm here to hurt you?"

Chellick stroked Pallin under his chin and chuckled.

"We've been at each others throats for the past ten years, Venari. As charming as I like to think I am, I know that in truth, few people would put up with my antics as you do. No…I'm afraid we're stuck with each other." He wrapped his arms around Pallin and raised an eye ridge suggestively. "As such, I'd like to make the best of our time together."

Without another word, Pallin finished stripping and stepped into the bath Chellick had prepared. The warm water felt good against his bare skin, but Chellick's deft hands felt even better. He relaxed and allowed the younger turian to run a wash cloth across his every inch of his body. He closed his eyes and allowed Chellick to wander as he willed.

"You're remarkably fit, Venari," Chellick observed appreciatively, "But your nerves could use a little work."

Chellick's hands found the knots in Pallin's neck and shoulders, and in short order, he'd managed to soothe away the uncomfortable cramps. Once his work there was done, he traveled to another area in need of his ministrations. Beneath the water, Pallin was in a full state of arousal, his long-dormant sex drive called forth by the skillful touch and musky scent of the turian attending him. He ached with a long unfulfilled need, a need Chellick needed no coaxing to address. A small moan parted Pallin's lips as Chellick began to stroke him. He felt his body tighten up like a spring, but Chellick's slow rhythm unwound him again. The sensation spread through his veins like poison, and he could see his breath in hot clouds before his face.

Chellick picked up his pace methodically, sending Pallin higher and higher with each circuit along his length. When the older turian finally did come, it was with a sharp cry and a shudder than sent water splashing over the side of the tub. His whole body went limp, and Chellick smiled in satisfaction.

"You see now, Venari," he joked, "I'm good for more than catching criminals."

Pallin took a few moments to catch his breath before replying.

"And I'm better for more than being your victim," he retorted, "Are you getting in or not? The water's getting cold..."

**SQUEE! I'll let your imaginations take it from here.**

**The End**


End file.
